Earth Day 2008 started out promisingly enough. I sit on the recycling committee at the giant corporation I work for (of course I do!), and we arranged to get some sweet freebie travel mugs to give to our colleagues, to encourage them to use fewer paper cups in the office.

We set up a table outside the cafeteria and handed out about a thousand of them, and people were jazzed. What a great idea! we heard over and over again. By the time lunch was over, we were almost out of mugs, and patting ourselves on the back.

We also set up a screening of The 11th Hour, which I hadn’t seen at that point. And, flying high from the talk I’d given the previous week which had ended with a truly wonderful conversation, I’d volunteered to facilitate a discussion after the screening. The CEO’s office even kicked in some free soda and popcorn for attendees. We were pumped for another great event.

So ... 5 pm. Screening time. About 15 people showed up, less than half the number that had RSVPed, but that’s to be expected. No biggie. I warmly welcomed everyone and invited them to stay afterwards to talk about the film, then we settled into our seats and the lights went down.

An hour into the film, I was wondering what we’d gotten ourselves into. The first 2/3 of this movie are seriously depressing. How was I going to put a Sunny Way spin on 60 relentless minutes of how screwed we are?

The last 30 minutes throw the viewer a small bone of hope, but seriously? The proportions are all wrong. Leonardo DiCaprio and friends go into a lot of detail on the problems, but just sort of breeze through the solutions, almost as though they are an afterthought.

I suppose I should have been grateful the doom-and-gloom hour came first! Imagine the mood in the room if they’d ended with the falling sky stuff. We would have had to hand out cyanide instead of popcorn.

Anyway. The film ended with a rousing Coldplay tune, the credits rolled, and the lights went up. Discussion time. Things started out innocuously enough: What did you like about this film?

One nice man, the leader of our recycling committee, said he liked the feeling of optimism and possibility at the end. I nodded enthusiastically. Yes, I said. It’s important to stay positive, because who does anything when they feel overwhelmed and depressed? Others in the group murmured their agreement. It’s up to all of us.

At that point, another gentleman jumped in with a torrent of sentences. They should have done a lot more about cars, America was built on the automobile and it was great, at least until unions ruined it. I blinked a few times, then buckled down to talk a bit with him about all that. Pretty soon I was on the history of transportation in the U.S. and he was on how everything comes down to no one disciplining their children anymore.

Twenty minutes or so later, I was not at all sure what was happening, but I knew it was not the positive, proactive conversation I’d been hoping for.

Then, another man got up to leave. He hadn’t said a word, but he stopped by my chair, looked me in the eye, and told me, “I really appreciate you doing this. I have to say, though, I think it’s too late. We don’t have a prayer.”

Stunned, confused, and frustrated, I turned to him and said, “All due respect and everything, sir? That is a cop-out.” His resigned expression didn’t change. He simply shrugged and walked out.

Another guy nodded in agreement with him. So did my union-busting, car-loving, red-blooded American debate partner. I could feel my color rising, so I wrapped things up, thanked everyone for coming, and bolted.

On the subway home, I broke down in tears. How can people be so closed-minded? I wrote wildly in my journal. So deaf to anything other than the sound of their own voices? How are we ever going to get anywhere?

And at that moment, the enormity of the situation rose up before me like a massive concrete wall, so high I couldn’t see the top, so smooth and monolithic I couldn’t see a way to climb it.

Now before you start wondering about my mental health, let me make sure I am clear on this: I am not kidding about what it says at the top of this web page. I am dedicated to this cause with every cell in my body and every thought in my head. This project—creating a context of possibility, encouraging everyone to take part, making responsibility the rule rather than the exception—is the purpose of my life. And it’s not like I think it’s going to be easy. I know the task before us is HUGE.

But we all live in the bubble of our own experience, and my experience is usually filled with people who think a lot like I do. Yours probably is, too. Birds of a feather and all that. Reaching out to a new flock is something most of us don’t do very often. I suppose I shouldn’t expect my first time to be perfect, but I was disappointed in myself all the same. Bitterly disappointed.

Talking with a friend later that night, I got a bit of perspective. Of course we’re going to run into obstacles! Of course people see things differently! That’s why this project is so important—because right now our differences are keeping us from actively working on solutions.

Another truth: these people had stayed at work for 2 hours past quitting time to watch and discuss a movie about the environment. It’s more than possible that the level of their cynicism is exactly equal to the level of their care. Transform that cynicism into action and half our battle is won.

And, finally, on a personal note, recognizing one’s own limitations is the first step in learning how to transcend them. To break through a wall, you kinda have to hit it first. Failure holds more lessons than success.

So, now, several days later, I can see the gifts in this breakdown. My less-than-stellar performance showed me that if I really want to fulfill my mission, I have to grow. We all do. If we want to create something new, we have to let go of what we think we know. That beautiful, elegant future we dream of? It lies outside the borders of the easy and the familiar. It is a brand new place whose gates won’t swing open to us until we learn to see and create in brand new ways.

The question is: Can we lay down everything we think we are sure of and travel to that unknown land together? Are we willing to try and fail and try again?

I am, and I hope you are, too. Stay tuned.